The Wizard of Kirkwall
by DrakeShadowFire
Summary: Harry Dresden had died and was ready for What Came Next. Which turned out to be a new life in the world of Thedas. Caught up in the looming war between Mages and the Templars, will Harry be able to find a way home? *Slow updates*
1. Chapter 1

**The Wizard of Kirkwall **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age or The Dresden file. They are rightful the property of Bioware and Jim Butcher.

**Author's note: Sorry this rewrite took me so long but life decided it didn't want to be easy and so is now giving me a hard time, not to mention the large amounts of writers block. But you're not here to read about my excuses so let just move on to the story already.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: No Rest for a Wizard<strong>

Given the way my life has typically progressed, I probably should have guessed that What Came Next was pain. A whole lot of pain.

I tried to take a breath, and a searing burst of agony radiated out from my chest. I held off on the next breath for as long as I could, but eventually I couldn't put it off anymore, and again fire spread across my chest.

I repeated that cycle for several moments, my entire reality consumed by the simple struggle to breathe and to avoid the pain. I was on the losing side of things, and if the pain didn't exactly lessen, it did, eventually, become more bearable.

I felt the rest of my body next. I was lying on something firm and uneven. It wasn't a torment, but it wasn't precisely comfortable, either.

Using my fingers, I examined the texture of what I was lying on. Or at least I tried was something wrong with them. They were barely able to move. And it wasn't just them. My entire body was in the same condition. It was as though someone had replaced my bones and flesh with lead weights, heavy and inert, and my tendons and muscles were too weak to break the inertia. With a little persistence and effort though, I was able to eventually identify the surface that I lay upon as dry, hard packed earth.

That didn't bode well for me as that indicated which afterlife I was in. Heaven is always portrayed as residing up in the skies not down on the ground.

My eyelids were in the same condition as the rest of my body. They didn't want to move. I don't blame them, I wasn't exactly eager to witness the hellish sights that were sure to greet me. In the end I was able to force them open.

Bright sunlight assaulted my eyes, its intensity causing me to cry out in pain. Swiftly, I shut my eyes again.

Hold on. Sunlight? In Hell?

I don't recall the bible mentioning there being any in the fiery pit of damnation. Yes, I have read the bible even thought I don't believe in the religion. I've had too many run-ins with archangels and the Denarians to not have done my homework. Plus knowing the Carpenters and Father Forthill has resulted in me being rather well versed in biblical literature.

"Maker's breath!" exclaimed a startled voice. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you were nothing but another corpse."

I opened my eyes again, only this time I did so slowly and gradually, giving my eyes plenty of time to adjust to the sun's brightness.

I was lying on a narrow trail in what appeared to be a barren scorched wasteland. In the distance rose a large pillar of smoke that was easily visible against the wan, onion coloured horizon.

Next to me knelt a beautiful young woman, in her early twenties at most, with pale skin and stunning ice blue eyes . Her slightly messy dark hair was trimmed in a bob cut with side swept bangs that framed her face and fell in into her across the bridge of her nose was a streak of red tribal paint. Her slender frame was clad in ornate medieval leather armour that did little to hide the pleasant feminine curves of her body. Slung across her back was a large longbow and a quiver full of arrows.

Beside her was a large dog that resembled an American Bandogge Mastiff on steroids. It had a coat of short tan coloured fur and small dark brown eyes that showed a keen intelligence, far more than that of a regular canine.

"Where am I?" I asked the woman. This obliviously wasn't Hell. The surroundings more closely resembled the aftermath of a forest fire rather than the afterlife of the damned, and while the woman kneeling beside me was beautiful, she was no angel.

Unfortunately, like my previous attempts at using my body, my tongue and lips responded sluggishly to my commands, causing my words to come out as a unintelligible mumble.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" asked the woman. "All I was able to make out was the word where."

"He's probably asking where his clothes went," suggested a man's voice.

From where I lay I was unable to see the speaker and so was forced to move my head around in search of him. Doing so made my head feel like it was about to fly apart every time I twitched it, but I persevered.

The owner of the voice stood a few feet behind the woman. He was a tall pale youth, I guessed him to be around about eighteen, with parted black hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a simple yellow and white sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscular frame and brown pants with matching knee-high boots. Fixed diagonally across his back was a wide two-handed broadsword that was almost three quarters his height in length.

Flanking the young man were a pair of women.

One of them was a practitioner as she had what I recognised to be a wizard's staff slung across her back. She was in her late teens, with pale skin, golden brown eyes and shoulder length black curls framed her face. She wore a white corset with long silver sleeves that left her shoulders bare, matching silver pants and a red with purple embroidery neckerchief. Belted around her middle was a sheet of chain mail that reached nearly all the way down to her knee-high boots.

The other was middle-age, pale, with clear blue eyes and shoulder length dark grey hair that was pulled into a loose tail at the base of her neck. She was dressed in garments that resembled those worn by women during the Middle Ages, a light brown dress with matching corset and neckerchief. Judging by her age and how the other three possessed a number of her features she had to be the trio's mother.

The teenage boy's words caused the female archer to flush a faint pink. "I didn't steal his clothes," she protested, shooting him a fierce glare. "They were already gone when I found him."

A quick glance down at my body confirmed that my clothes were indeed gone. Strangely, I still had my silver pentacle amulet, which was a relief though as it was the only keepsake I had of my mother. While I was gazing down at it, I noticed something.

Running in a straight line, from the hollow of my throat all the way down to my belly, was a scar. I had gotten it when Quintus Cassius had tried to filet me with a hook knife.

The thing is it shouldn't have been there.

As a ghost I didn't possess a physical body so my skin should have been as unblemished as a newborn's.

I quickly check the rest of my enough,all the scars that I had accumulated over the years were once more etched upon my body. Their return meant that I had a physical body again. That could only mean one thing.

Somehow, I had been brought back to life.

"I don't understand" I muttered in confusion. "I should be dead."

When I had gone through that black door back in Chicago Between I had been expecting either pearly gate or fire and brimstone. Finding myself miraculously alive again and in the company of people who looked like escapees from a renaissance fair was not something I had anticipated.

Evidently my speech must having grown more coherent as the woman kneeling beside understood me this time.

"Perhaps the darkspawn were only interested in taking your clothes and not your life," she suggested humorously.

Darkspawn? What the hell is a darkspawn?

Don't get me wrong—I'm a wizard. I know plenty about the supernatural. Hell, I could list enough various entities and creatures to fill an entire book, but this one was a new to me.

That's the thing about the supernatural realms, they're far bigger than the material world. I could spend the rest of my life learning about new beasties and barely scratch the surface.

"I didn't realise that the darkspawn had such interest in fashion," the teenage girl remarked dryly.

"Marian, go see if any of those corpses have clothes that will fit him," instructed the middle aged woman.

"Sure thing," replied the kneeling woman. "I can check if there's anything of worth on them while I'm at it." She straightened and walked out of view, the large dog trailing along after her.

"Just be quick about it, sister," urged the teenage boy."The darkspawn isn't going to wait while you fill your coin purse."

"Sorry about having you wear a corpse's clothes but the only clothes we have are the ones on our backs," explained the middle aged woman apologetically.

"It's fine ma'am," I replied. As I wasn't an exhibitionist, I found being stark naked in front of these people extremely awkward and uncomfortable. So to be clothed, even if they had worn by the recently deceased, would be a huge relief.

There was a problem though. I wasn't capable of dressing myself. I couldn't even muster enough strength to cover myself with my hands let alone perform the arduous task of getting dressed. Which meant I would have to ask one of them to do it for me. Great. As if things weren't awkward enough.

"Hey, Conan," I called out to teenage boy.

"My name's Carver," he informed me.

"Um. I hate ask this but could you assist me with getting dressed? The thing is I can barely move and I can't exactly have one of the women help me out with this."

"I've got a much better idea," he said. He turned to the teenage girl next to him. "Bethany, do you have any elfroot potions?"

"Only one," she answered, handing him a small glass sphere filled with a red liquid.

Carver walked over and knelt down beside me."Here, drink this," he ordered, raising the bottle to my lips. "This potion will restore some of your strength."

While I was hesitant to drink an unfamiliar concoction I complied and swallowed the contents of the bottle.

It tasted like ordinary herbal tea but as it went down my gullet, I could feel the power in the brew spreading out into me, active and alive**. **My fatigue quite simply vanished and energy came rushing back. The pain receded down to levels that I could manage. The soreness lifted from my muscles, and my cloudy thought processes cleared as though someone had flushed my brain's neural network with caffeine**. **

"Alright, I think these should fit," Marian said, returning with an arm full of clothing.

"Thanks," I said gratefully as I stood up and accepted the clothes from her. "I really appreciate the help all of you have given me."

I dressed, the clothes were ill-fitting, stained with blood and stank of rotting flesh, but it was better than nothing.

"We haven't been properly introduced yet," said the middle-age woman once I had finished dressing. "I'm Leandra."She waved a hand at the others. "And these three are my children; Carver, Bethany and Marian."

"Call me Hawke," Marian said. "Only mother calls me Marian,"

Her dog, which had returned to his previous position beside her, let out a bark.

Marian, or should I say Hawke, smiled and rubbed the dog's head affectionately "And this here is my mabari, Wrex."

"I'm Harry Dresden," I introduced myself. "Now that we're all acquainted, can someone tell me where I am? My brush with death has left me rather confused."

"We're in the Southron Hills, near the Kocari Wilds." Bethany answered.

I didn't recognise either one of those names but before I could inquire further Carver spoke.

"Enough of the chatter already," he growled impatiently. "We need to get moving before the darkspawn finds us."

The words were barely out of his mouth when a wave of invisible energy, cold and foul, flooded over my magical perceptions, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.

"Too late. We're about to have company," I warned them.

Hawke reacted swiftly to my warning, unslinging her bow and notching an arrow. "Where?" she demanded, her eyes scanning our surroundings.

"Ahead of us, coming down the trail," I informed her.

Sure enough, a dozen individuals wearing dark, rusty spiked armour and scale mail hoods came into view. While I didn't recognise them they had to be these darkspawn creatures these people keep mentioning.

They had sunken and deathly pale skin, like that of a corpse. With their lack of eyebrows, lips and exposed rotted grey teeth, it gave their faces a near skeletal look. But the thing that was frighting about them wasn't their appearance but how their aura felt to my magical senses. It was _wrong_. Fundamentally, intensely _wrong_. I could feel it tainting the very essence of the world around it with its mere presence.

And there was something else as well. A faint malevolent voice. While its words were indistinct, the intent was clear. They were orders for the darkspawn**. **

I positioned myself in front of Leandra and drew in my will,preparing to protect her with defensive magic if need. While the spell would be less effective than my trusty shield bracelet, it should be more than enough to handle whatever these darkspawn could throw at it.

I need not have bothered though as the approaching darkspawn chose to completely ignored Leandra and me in favour of focusing their attention on Hawke.

Those that were armed with crossbows levelled them at her and let loose a volley of arrows. However, thanks to my warning, Hawke was ready. With practice ease, she nimbly sidestepped the deadly projectiles; cause them to sail past her harmlessly.

"With your aim, I bet you guys couldn't even hit a Bronto," she called tauntingly to the darkspawn. "You're better off sticking to swords, at least then you'd actually stand a chance of hitting something."

Seemingly taking her at her word, a number of the sword-wielding darkspawn let out shrieking howls and charged towards her in a mad headlong rush. But before they could reach her, Bethany thrust out her right hand and with a fierce cry sent a basketball-sized comet of fire flying toward the oncoming group of darkspawn.

I frowned slightly. Bethany's magic was rather strange.

Magic, in its simplest form, is the energy produced by life. Usually, when you work a spell, you reach out into the environment around you and pull in energy. It flows in from everywhere, from the fabric of life in the whole planet.

Except Bethany didn't do that. Instead of drawing in power from the material world, I felt her draw it from the spiritual world instead. Her magic still relatively worked the same way mine did, just that she got the energy from a different source than I did.

Regardless of the source energy that was fuelling it, her magic worked just fine. Her fireball sailing forth with a howling whistle of superheated air and smashed into the charging darkspawn. It detonated with a loud whump, erupting in an explosion that sent them sprawling.

"Nice one, Bethany," Hawke complimented. "Carver,deal with them before they have a chance to recover while Bethany and I take care of the archers. Wrex, look after mother and Dresden."

Working together, the siblings made short work of the darkspawn. Carver cut down the disoriented darkspawn with methodical efficiency while Bethany and Hawke picked off the archers with their fireballs and arrows.

I was quite impressed with the trio's skill and teamwork. It had only taken them about a minute to kill all of the darkspawn.

As for the darkspawn themselves, as supernatural monsters go they weren't very impressive. They lacked the superhuman strength and speed that most monsters possessed. Nor were they very resilient, falling victim to mere arrows while many supernatural creatures were easily capable of withstand gunfire and magical assaults. While they were competent enough to use weapons, they did so in a crude fashion, showing that they possess only limited intelligence. Aside from their corrupted aura, the darkspawn, in terms of pure physical attributes, seem to more closely resemble humans rather than creatures of the supernatural world.

Bethany let out an exasperated sigh. "Must you loot everything you see?" She asked her older sister, who was currently checking the darkspawn corpses for anything that may be of some value.

"Of course. To the victor go the spoils," Hawke replied, dropping a few bronze coins that she had found into a purse tied to her belt.

"Need I remind you yet again that we need to go before more darkspawn show up," Carver said, his voice annoyed.

"Alright Carver, no need to nag," Hawke said, reluctantly halting her looting spree.

"It would probably be best if I take point. Since I'm able to sense darkspawn I can give us ample warning of their approach," I said.

"You can sense darkspawn? Is such a thing even possible?" Leandra asked, her expression skeptical.

"He could be a grey warden," Carver mused. "I've heard that they're able to sense the presence of darkspawn when they're near."

My brow furrowed in confusion. Was he referring to the Warden of the White Council? While the Wardens were known for their signature grey cloaks I've never heard anyone use the term grey warden before when referring to them.

Hawke shook her head. "Unlikely given that they had all perished at Ostagar."

Yet another name that I didn't was troubling. While I was no geography expert I should at least have heard of one these places.

"Perhaps he managed to escape. After all you and Carver did," Bethany pointed out.

"Sorry, but Hawke is right," I said. "I've never heard of this Ostagar before let along been there. But I don't see what being a grey warden has to do with the ability to sense darkspawn. Anyone with magical talent should be able to sense their presence."

"Anyone with magical talent," Leandra repeated thoughtfully. "You're mage then?"

I nodded. "I prefer the term wizard though."

"Is what he says true?" Hawke asked Bethany.

"I don't know," Bethany admitted. "Father's lessons didn't cover darkspawn. But if he is telling the true then he's our best chance at escape."

"Hold on, how do we know you're not using some kind of dark magic like blood magic to sense the darkspawn?" Carver asked, his expression suspicious. "Maybe that how you can sense darkspawn even though you're not a grey warden."

I understood his apprehension. Those willing to use black magic could do some very nasty stuff to you if they managed to get a hold of blood and there would be let you could do to stop them.

"You needn't worry, I'm not using dark magic," I reassured Carver.

"And we're suppose to just take your word for it?" Carver asked.

I shrugged. "If you wish to stand a better chance of survival, then yes."

"Well, dark magic or not, I'm willing to accept any help we can get if means our survival," Hawke said.

"And if he's delusional and he can't really sense darkspawn?" Carver wanted to know.

"Then we're no worse off than we were before."

Carver looked like he wanted to argue but his mother cut him off.

"Trust your sister's judgement," Leandra advised."She knows what she's doing."

Carver expression showed that he didn't agree but he offered no further objections.

Hawke gestured at the rough trail ahead of us. "Right then, lead on Dresden."

"Wait! Where are we going?" Bethany asked.

"Away from the darkspawn. Where else?" Carver said sarcastically.

"And then where? We can't just wander aimlessly."

"So long as we wander aimlessly away from the horde, I'm happy," Hawke chimed in.

"We can go to Kirkwall," Leandra suggested.

I suppressed the urge to sigh in irritation. I was beginning to get fed up with all these unfamiliar terms and places. It made me feel as though I was some clueless idiot.

"Kirkwall?" Hawke exclaimed, surprised. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"There's a lot of templars in Kirkwall, mother," Bethany noted apprehensively.

Briefly, I wondered why that fact made her nervous.

"I know that, but we still have family there – and estate," Leandra reasoned.

Bethany sighed. "Then we need to get to Gwaren and take ship."

"If we survive that long. I'll just be happy to get out of here," Carver said grimly.

"So which way is it to this Gwaren?" I asked.

**(~)**

It didn't take long for them to lose their scepticism regarding my claim of being able to sense darkspawn.

Utilising my wizard's senses, I was able to navigate a way through these hills that didn't result in us encountering too many darkspawn. Those that we couldn't avoid were dealt with easily enough in ambushes that the siblings were able to set up thanks to my forewarning.

Unfortunately due to the knowledge that darkspawn couldn't get near us without me detecting them Hawke decided that it was fine for her to scavenge for loot again despite the rest of her family's complaints.

While Hawke was busy picking over their corpses Bethany came up to me and asked**,**

"So, if you're not using dark magic how exactly are you detecting the darkspawn?"

"I'm using my wizard's senses to detect any magical energy in the vicinity. If I find one that feels cold and vile then it's a darkspawn," I explained.

"And anyone with magic can do this?"

I nodded. "Yes. It's really basic stuff. I find it surprising that you don't know how to do it."

"I guess my father never got round to teaching me the skill," she said with a shrug.

"I couldn't help but notice that he isn't here. Did the darkspawn...?"

Bethany shook her head. "No, he died three years ago," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me to ask." I apologised.

"It's fine. I've had enough time to come to terms with his death." Her expression grew troubled. "But I'm worried that any one of us could be joining him soon."

I have what might be considered a very out-of-date sense of chivalry when it came to women, although others claim I'm simple chauvinistic. Whatever you called it, the thing is I could never stand it when a woman is suffering, and as such I never ignore a lady in distress.

"I won't let anything happen to you or your family, I promise," I said, trying to reassure her.

She gave me an appreciative smile. "Well, you're certainly doing a fine job so far."

"Dresden, how's the trail up ahead?" Hawke asked, joining us now that her looting was finished.

Extending my senses as far out around us as I could, I found a group of about fifteen darkspawn a little further up trail.

Before I could inform Hawke of this one of darkspawn abruptly vanished from my magical senses.

I blinked in surprise. Were some of the darkspawn capable of veiling? I suppose it was possible. In one of our previous encounters there had been a darkspawn that could wield some kind of black magic.

The established method for wizards to see through veils was the use of the Sight, also known as spirit vision, inner sight, or the Third Eye. The Sight lets you perceive the world around you in a vastly broadened spectrum of interacting forces. It shows you the world the way it really is, matter all intertwined with a universe of energy, of magic. The Sight can show you beauty that would make you weep, and terrors that would turn your hair you see, the good, the bad, the insanity-inducing—it sticks with you forever. You can't ever forget, and time doesn't blur the memories. It's yours. Permanently.

It was because of that fact I was reluctant to use my Sight. Wizards who run around using their Sight willy-nilly wind up bonkers. But if I didn't use it then they would be able to sneak up on us. For all I know there could be a bunch of them behind us right now, about to stab us in the back.

As two more darkspawn vanished from magical perception a thought occurred to me. If I couldn't use my vision why not use my hearing instead.

I closed my eyes, and Listened. Listening is a skill I'd picked up when I was a kid. Not many people have worked out the trick of it, blocking out all other sound in order to better hear one sound in particular. It isn't as much about magic, I think, as it is focus and discipline. But the magic helps.

What I heard were the sounds of a battle. A cacophony of clashing metal, inhuman shrieks and cries of exertions and defiance.

It appeared that someone was fighting the darkspawn. The ones that had disappeared from my senses weren't veiling themselves but instead were being killed.

Opening my eyes, I announced, "There's someone up ahead fighting darkspawn."

"Are we to sneak past them while they're distracted? Or rescue whoever is in trouble?" Carver inquired.

"Rescue, of course," Hawke chose without a moment's hesitation.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. I hadn't pegged Hawke as the hero type. She seemed just so...roughish. It's one thing to help out your family, but to be willing risk your life to save a total stranger? That takes a special kind of person. My respect for the woman rose.

"I don't know. While I'm uncomfortable with leaving someone at the mercy of the darkspawn, I don't want you three risking lives when we have the option of avoiding a battle with those creatures," Leandra said, conflicted.

"We'll be fine mother," Hawke assured her. "After all, Ser Dresden here promised to keep us safe."

"Same strategy as before?" Bethany asked her sister. "Sneak up on the darkspawn and kill them before they even realise we're there."

Hawke nodded, "It's worked on all the others. I see no reason to change it now."

**(~)**

We made our stealthily along the trail, careful not to alert the darkspawn of our plan.

When we reached the site of battle I noticed that there were in fact two people fighting the darkspawn.

One was a young man with grey green coloured eyes and short black hair with the fringe spiked up. He was clad in ornate steel armour that was embossed with golden symbols of holy design. Strangely, he wore what appeared to a red and black kilt that nearly reached his ankles. In his hands he wielded a sword and a large shield bearing the symbol of a divine sword.

The other was a woman. She had pale skin with a light dusting of freckles. Her orange hair was fixed in a loose shoulder length ponytail with a thin leather headband tied around her forehead to keep her fringe out of her face. Her eyes were a pale green and were very determined. She was dress in light brown pants, knee high boots. Over her white long sleeveless shirt she wore a leather singlet with diamond shaped metalled studs woven in at regular intervals. Tied around her upper biceps were matching brown leather band. Unlike her companion, she armed only with a broadsword but she proved to very proficient with it, easily dispatching her opponent with brutal efficiency.

But before the siblings could implement their plan, one of the darkspawn managed to creep up behind the young man and lash out at him with its sword.

Preoccupied with cutting down another darkspawn, the man was caught unawares and suffered a server gash to his shield arm. Grunting in pain, his shield tumbled from his grasp and hit the dirt with a clank. Stumbling, he tried to back away for his attacker, but a heavy boulder blocked his retreat. He attempted to ward off the thing by levelling his sword at it but the darkspawn was undeterred and continued to stalk towards him.

With a yell, the red haired woman came to his rescue, launching herself at the darkspawn and taking it off its feet in a tackle. Pinning it beneath her, she began laying into the thing's face with her fists. While it was stunned from her powerful blows, the woman seized her sword and beheaded it. "You will not have him!" she declared, her tone fierce.

Scooping up the man's shield, she rushed to his side and hoisted him onto his feet. "They will not have you." She told him resolutely as the two gazed at each other for a moment, their expression tender. She then turned to survey the darkspawn surrounding them. "Not while I breathe."

The darkspawn pressed in on them, baying for their blood, only to be caught off guard by the siblings' surprise attack. Unprepared for the abrupt assault, they swiftly fell victim to the siblings combined attack of sword, arrows and magic.

With the battle being over, the redhead woman took the opportunity to bandage the young man's arm. "Stop squirming, Wesley. You'll make it worse." she admonished the wounded man as she fussed over him.

He ignored her in favour of glaring at Bethany. "Apostate, keep your distance."

"Well, the Maker has a sense of humour," Bethany said with small dry laugh. "Darkspawn, and now a templar. I thought they all abandoned Lothering."

"The 'spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown. The Order dictates...

"Wesley," interrupted the redheaded woman, her tone pleading.

"That woman is an apostate. The Order dictates..." he said again, approaching Bethany threateningly.

I blocked his path, fixing him with an icy glare. "It was pretty clear to me what her intent was, seeing as she just save you and girlfriend life, you ungrateful ass," I told him, my tone as hard as granite. If all templar were like this guy then I can see why Bethany is reluctant to go to Kirkwall.

"Dear, the man is right," agreed the redheaded woman. "They saved us. The maker understands."

The man stared at me for a few second before stepping back, the tension leaving his body. "Of course," he said as returned to stand next to the redheaded woman.

"I am Aveline Vallen," said the redheaded woman. She gestured to the man beside her. "This is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we're safe from the horde."

"You're quick to offer your allegiance," Hawke noted, her tone suspicious.

"Another blade between us and the darkspawn? Yes please." Carver said.

"So long as the horde is their first concern," Bethany commented.

Wesley expression was conflicted. "My duty is clear, but that..." he hesitated before reluctantly going to saying, "Is for another day. If we are granted that opportunity."

"We will be fine. We all will," Aveline said.

"How bad is that wound?" Leandra asked Wesley. "We may have some potions that can help."

"I think my shield arm's is a loss, even with healing," he answered glumly.

"Then you will have mine. As always," Aveline told him, briefly placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning to address us."For now, we move with you. North is cut off. We barely escape the main body of the horde."

"Then we're trapped!" Carver exclaimed. "The Wilds are to the south! That's no way out!"

"We have no choice," Hawke stated. "I doubt even Dresden will able to sneak pas tus that many darkspawn undetected. We go south."

**(~)**

As we made our way south, the atmosphere in a little band grew so tense you could cut it with a knife.

From what I could tell, the source of the tension was due to Wesley being a templar. Going on his use of the term apostate, I was guessing that Wesley belonged to some religions order that had the misguided belief that magic was wicked. With Bethany being a mage, there was bound to be friction between our two groups.

I wonder how he'll react when he finds out I'm a wizard.

We had just reached the summit of a small plateau over looked by a large cliff, when I detected a darkspawn approaching rapidly. The thing must have been massive as the ground literally start to shake from its pounding footsteps as it drew closer. With surprising speed it reached the summit and came charging towards us.

"Incoming!" I yelled, barely able to dive out of its path in time to avoid getting trampled.

Hawke, Bethany, Wesley and Aveline follow suit, leaping clear before the darkspawn could crush them beneath its feet.

Coming to a halt in the middle of the plateau, it let out a fierce bellow. The thing resembled an ogre from the Nevernever only with large gnarled horns. It was about ten feet tall and built like a brick house. Strapped all over it large body were large pieces of crude armour while wrapped around its waist was a large loincloth. The thing wasn't armed, but that made little difference as it could probably pick up a minivan with one handed and crash it like a soda can.

Casting its beady little eyes about, it noticed Carver and Leandra cowering nearby and lumbered toward them.

Carver, acting like the typical irrational teenager he was, recklessly rushed forward to confront the monstrosity. "You soulless bastards!" he cried and swung his blade at the monster.

The darskpawn blocked the blow with an armoured forearm, causing the sword to glance off harmlessly in a shower of sparks. With one massive hand, it snatched the hapless teen and hoisted him into air.

With grisly foresight I saw what it intend to do. But there was no way in hell I was just going to sit back and let a mother's child be killed right in front of her.

As we traveled, I had let the siblings do all the fighting so I could conserve my magical strength in case of an emergency like this. However, in my weakened state I wasn't sure if I possessed enough power to take down this thing. I would have to use one of my trump cards.

I extended a hand towards the monster and focused all the will I come muster into it. "Forzare!" I roared, and infused the spell with a portion soulfire.

Soulfire was the angelic equivalent of the Hellfire, fires of creation rather than those of destruction. With it I could enhanced any of my spells. But as the name implied, I was using my own soul as source of energy, so I had to careful with its use. If I poured too much into any given working, it could kill me.

You can imagine the darkspawn surprise. One moment it was about to smash Carver on the hard unyielding earth like an egg, only to find itself pounded into dirt by my giant magically conjured silver fist. Talk about irony. Or was it karma?

With a savage grin on my face, I bellowed, "Hulk smash!"

The thing was tough though. I could feel it biting and clawing at the construct that trapped it. While the pain of it was a small thing, the sensation was unpleasant as hell.

I glanced at Carver, who sat in the dirt where the darkspawn had dropped him, staring at the giant silver fist in disbelief. "You might want to move back," I advised him.

For once he didn't argue. He scrambled to his feet and made his way over to Leandra, who embraced him tightly in relief.

Using my conjured fist like a sledgehammer, I pummeled the thing until it was about six feet under. Satisfied that it was undoubtedly dead, I return my attention back to others to find them all staring at me with a stunned expression on their faces.

"By the Maker," Bethany whispered in awe. "What kind of magic was that?"

"Just a little something I picked up over the years," I lied. I wasn't about to tell her that it was a power granted to me by an archangel.

"A little something you picked?" Hawke repeated, deadpanned.

"Blood magic, no doubt," Wesley accused, distaste evident in his tone. "The darkspawn appear to be doing a fine job of driving you apostates out from your hidey-holes."

"Firstly, that wasn't blood magic," I snapped, annoyed by his bigoted attitude towards magic. "And secondly, I am not an apostate. Just nonpartisan. Theological Switzerland, that's me."

"What?" Wesley asked, clearly confused.

"I don't care what magic you used, you saved my son for which I am grateful." Leandra said,coming up to me and giving me a fierce hug."He is too, even if he would never admit it."

"We should go," Aveline advised. "Where there's one darkspawn, there are more."

"She's right," I confirmed, checking our surroundings with my wizard's senses. "There are a lot of darkspawn heading our way. There's too many to fight, we'd be swamped by sheer numbers."

Aveline stared at me in bewilderment. "How could you possibly know that?"

Oh, right. Aveline and Wesley weren't there when I told the others about my wizard's senses.

"I'll explain later; we need to go before — shit," I cursed as waves of darkspawn began clambering up the sides of the plateau.

"Well, this doesn't look good," Bethany said, her tone bleak.

"Looks like running away is no longer an option." Carver said, readying his sword. "We'll have to fight our way through somehow."

"Another one of those giant magical fists would certainly be handy right about now,"" Hawke quipped as she drew her bow.

I shook my head. "I haven't enough magic left in me to light a candle, much less conjure giant fists."

"Best keep clear then," she cautioned me. "Aveline, my siblings and I will handle it from here."

The four of engaged the darkspawn but it quickly became apparent that we were only delaying the enviable. Dozens of darkspawn had fallen, but that meant little. Their numbers had not been diminished by any significant measure. They could fight as hard as they wanted—but despite everything, in the end it was going to be futile.

"There's no end to them," Bethany cried out in despair.

Her anguish cut me like a knife, the overconfident promise I had made to her about not letting anything happen to her or family replaying in my head.

If only there was some way we could give the darkspawn the slip but didn't see how it would be possible with our backs up against a cliff, surrounded on all sides.

A solution came to me then, one so simple I couldn't believe I didn't think of it sooner. I could open up a Way to the Nevernever for us to escape through.

I was about to consult the red jewel affixed in the centre of my pentacle amulet for a safe escape route, it containing my mother's vast knowledge of The Ways, when I sensed above us a mass of nauseating energy so thick and heavy that it made my hair stand on end—a dead giveaway of a hostile supernatural presence.

Seconds later a low thunderous growl filled the air, causing everyone to freeze in place, even the darkspawn.

We all turned towards the source of the sound. Perched on the cliff top behind us was a massive pair of folded maroon wings. With a whoosh, they unfurled to reveal a freaking dragon!

The thing was the size of a small plane, and like prehistoric birds from the Jurassic period, possessed a blend of avian and reptilian features. With a deafening shriek, it dove off the cliff top and swooped down towards us.

We hit the deck as it soared past, fire spewing from it maw, setting many of the darkspawn alight. As it went, it swept others up in its claws and mouth before dropping them from a fatal height.

With a heavy thud, it came down to land in the middle of the plateau. It ignored us, choosing to focus solely on the darkspawn, spitting fire at them and lashed out with its tail and claws.

In seconds the slaughter was over; leave the dragon standing alone amidst the flames, a dead darkspawn clutched in one huge claw.

It regarded us for a moment, before being engulfed in a bright swirling light. The light shrank in size until it faded away to reveal a well aged woman.

Her face was mostly smooth, possessing only a few age lines. Her eyes were the colour of amber, like those of an animal, and were ringed with maroon eye shadow. Her pure white hair was stylised into horns, like those of her dragon form, with a flowing mane that reached just past her shoulders.

Her maroon outfit was a sleeveless low cut leather dress with a long train and black wore a matching collar that encompassed her entire neck. Extending from its ends to cover her shoulders were large black feathers. Encasing each one of her limbs was study steel armour. A steel tiara, one that matched the bony crest the dragon had, rested on forehead while small matching steel hooped earrings with a dangling fang hung from her ears.

Discarding the dead darkspawn, she approached us; calmly walking through the still burning fire. She stopped just shy of us, and with an amused smirk remarked, "Well, well, what have we here?"

Hell's Bells, this day just keeps getting better and better.

* * *

><p><strong>If anyone would be so kind as to let me know of any grammar or spelling error, I'll be grateful for the help. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Wizard of Kirkwall **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age or The Dresden file. They are rightful the property of Bioware and Jim Butcher.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Witch of the Wilds<strong>

Being through a number of life threatening episodes has given me a certain amount of cynicism. Once a rogue wizard or three has tried to end your life, or some supernatural beastie has attempted to tear your throat out, you start to expect the worst.

I know, Paranoid? Probably. But I'd hate to find out that the universe really wasn't conspiring against me. It would jerk the rug out from under my persecution complex.

But since I was currently being confronted by what appeared to a white haired version of Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, I think it's safe to say that my caution is completely justified. Especially when her magical aura has a nauseating, greasy, empty feeling to it that I have come to associate with black magic.

I doubted that I was the only one distrustful of our saviour. Being a Templar, Wesley would also be similarly wary. In fact, I was surprised at how quiet he was being in the face of this new arrival. Going by his previous behaviour, I had expected him to declare to Dragon lady that it was an unholy creature and that his Order demanded that he slay it.

Glancing over to where he stood, I saw the reason for his unusual silence. His condition had progressively worsened. Eyes glazed and so deathly pale that the veins beneath his skin were easily visible, the man looked more like he'd been poisoned rather than having suffered a sword wound.

As I watched, he staggered and would of have collapsed if not for Aveline. Coming to his aid, she hastily took hold of him and gently laid him down against the base of the cliff.

"It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds," Dragon lady commented wryly, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "But now it seems they arrive in hordes!"

"Impressive," Hawke complimented, her lips shifting to one side in a smirk. "Where'd you learn how to turn into a dragon?"

"Perhaps I am a dragon," she answered coolly, clearly not liking the familiar attitude in which Hawke had addressed her. "If so, count yourself lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite."

Her implied threat of eating us didn't really fill me with terror as it would with any sane person; a result of numerous supernatural nasties having made the same threat countless times before. However, my brief encounter with Ferrovax had taught me that dragons weren't to be taken lightly.

So I decided that perhaps it would be best to treat her in a civil manner to avoid provoking her into a fiery temper. And people say I can't be diplomatic.

It turned out they were right as evidently my mouth didn't seem to agree with this plan and went off on its own, heedless to the possible consequences, without checking in with my brain first.

"I've faced far worse than you, grandma. So if you think I'm going to cower at your ability to show off your inner beauty, think again."

Oh boy, I was in for it now. When I had mocked Ferrovax he responded by nearly flattening me like a pancake.

Surprisingly, rather than being offended, Dragon lady instead burst into laughter.

"Oh, you I like!" she exclaimed, her expression amused.

What can I say, I have a gift. Maybe I should give up the wizard investigator gig and become a comedian instead.

Once the Dragon lady mirth had subsided she peered at me intently for a moment, as though studying me. Then in a manner similar to an oracle uttering prophecy, she said: "Hurtled into the chaos, you fight… and the world will shake before you."

"Just what the hell is that suppose to mean?" I demanded, confused.

I hated cryptic statements. I know, the whole cryptic-remark concept is part and parcel of the wizard gig, but I was really getting sick of the I-know-and-you-don't shtick.

Ignoring my question, Dragon lady turned and made to leave, as though she had lost all interest in us now. "If you wish to flee the darkspawn, you should know you are heading in the wrong direction," she said as she walked away.

"You can't just leave us," Bethany protested, anxiously stepping towards the retreating shape-shifter.

Dragon lady glanced back at her. "Can't I?" she responded coldly, unmoved by Bethany's plea. Without waiting for an answer she spun back to face us. "I spotted a most curious sight: a mighty ogre, vanquish! Who could perform such a feat? But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe… for the moment. Is that not enough?"

So, she'll have us believe that she saved us out of idle curiosity. I don't buy it. Beings like her always have ulterior motive.

"You could show me that trick of yours," Hawke suggested humorously. "That looks useful."

Dragon lady let out a low scathingly laugh. "If only a clever tongue is all one need! Tell me, clever child: how do you intend to outrun the blight?"

"We're going to Kirkwall - in the Free Marches," Carver replied.

"Kirkwall?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "My, but that is quite the voyage you plan. So far simply to flee the darkspawn."

"We have family there," Leandra explained.

"I see."She turned and gazed out over the devastated landscape. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide," she murmured softly to herself, evidently deep in thought. Apparently coming to some sort of decision, she faced us once more and said, "It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet.""

Wow, what a surprising and completely unexpected change of heart.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not stupid lady, there's no such thing as a free lunch. There has to be a catch."

She let out a low chuckle. "There is always a catch. Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can!"

"Should we even trust her? We don't even know what she is!"Carver pointed out, his tone suspicious.

"I know what she is," revealed Aveline. "The Witch of the Wilds."

Dragon lady gave a shrug of indifference. "Some call me that. Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. An old hag who talks too much."

"What about Maleficent?" I asked, unable to resist.

"I've been called a maleficar many a time but never Maleficent."

Jokes aside, I had notice that she never said which was her actually name. It was reasonable precaution as Names, capital N, have power.

When a practitioner knows the Name of something, knows it in every nuance and detail of pronunciation, then they automatically have a conduit with which they can reach out and touch it, almost in the same way a wizard can reach out and touch someone if they possesses a lock of their hair, or fingernail clippings, or blood.

"Does it matter what I'm called? I offer you this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a Witch of the Wilds?"

It was a simple exchange, as these things went. This 'Flemeth' had offered us a great package. Sweet, neat, and tidy as a box of chocolates. Which meant that I'd be an idiot not to check for razor blades and cyanide.

"And how much trouble will this delivery cause?" I asked. "A lot of the bargains I've made have a habit of coming back and biting me in the ass later on."

"About as much trouble as my saving your lives not five minutes ago."

"Translation, lots of pain and probable death."

"It's nothing more dangerous than one so capable can handle," she said dismissively.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered sarcastically.

"You would go through all that trouble to have something delivered?" Hawke asked skeptically.

"I have… an appointment to keep. It is far more convenient this way. Happily, you're not without your own needs," Flemeth said.

I didn't trust Flemeth but our chances of escaping the darkspawn without her help were slim, especially with the condidtion Wesley was in. Again I considered the option of trying to escape using the Ways. I stroked a thumb over my mother's gem and consulted the knowledge stored there. Nothing. It seemed that my mother hadn't explored this area on her dimension hopping jaunts and I wasn't prepared to risk the others lives stumbling around blindly in the Nevernever. Without a Way it would be practically suicide. Getting lost would be the least of our problems as the Nevernever was home to beings far worse than the darkspawn.

"I guess we don't have much choice," I admitted reluctantly.

"We never do," Flemeth agreed. "There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full."

She approached and held out a hand towards me. In it lay a small amulet. I ran a cursory glance over the object. It looked ordinary enough. Just a regular, plain old amulet. But in my experience, the more innocent and harmless it appeared to be, the more dangerous it truly was.

As I extended my left hand to take the amulet, I reached out with my magical awareness to examine the object, silently feeling for any trace of magical energy that might give me an indication of what this thing truly was.

My magical awareness was akin to the Sight, just as my sense of touch was akin to my sense of sight. It cost me less than opening the Sight, and was infinitely more gentle to my psyche. With it I was able to ascertain that the amulet was in fact a container, designed to house and protect a replica of Flemeth essence.

I froze, my hand a mere hair's breadth away from the amulet, afraid that if I touched it the 'copy' would take up resident's in my mind like how Lasciel did, before noticing that the entity was dormant and would remain so until summoned forth by some kind of ritual, no doubt to be performed by this Keeper Marethari.

Like Voldemort's Horcruxes or Sauron's Ring, it seems that the amulet was to serve as Flemeth's insurance in case she bought the farm.

"Is something the matter?" Flemeth asked, a hint of suspicion beginning to creep intoher expression.

I contemplated calling the deal off but all that would accomplish is getting us all slaughtered at the hands of the darkspawn while Flemeth would simply go off and find some other desperate sap to sucker.

"No, everything's fine," I lied, cautiously taking the amulet and pocketed it.

Best I just play dumb for now and pretend to agree to Flemeth's bargain. Then once we get to this Kirkwall I'll work on finding a way to dispose of her amulet, or failing that, binding it like I did with Lasciel coin.

"Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter…"Flemeth said, turning to face Aveline and the injured Ser Wesley, her gaze fixed on the latter.

Aveline scrambled to her feet. "No! Leave him alone!" she said fiercely, placing herself protectively in front of her husband.

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already," Flemeth informed her gently, an expression of what appeared to be genuine regret on her face**.**

"You lie!" Aveline accused, her voice harsh.

A quick examination with my wizard's senses revealed that Flemeth was indeed correct. Dark malevolent energy was coursing through out Wesley's kind that destroyed, warped, rotted, and corrupted whatever it touched.

"I'm afraid she's telling the truth," I told Aveline. "I can sense traces of dark supernatural energy in his body."

"It has to be the taint. He must have been infected with it when he received that sword wound." Carver said in realisation.

"The taint?" I repeated quizzically.

"It the corruption present in the darkspawn's blood," Hawke explained. "I've witnessed it cause the death of many strong soldiers while I was at Ostagar. The stuff is like a vile poison, destroying everything it comes into contact with."

"How much time does he have?" Aveline asked Flemeth in a hollow voice.

"Very little, if I am any judge," the witch replied grimly.

"Is there nothing we can do to help him?" I asked.

Hawke shook her head sadly."I'm afraid not. Antidotes and potions have no effect. Even magic is of no use. Not one of the healers at camp was able to treat it."

"That's because the only known cure for the taint is to become a Grey Warden," Flemeth said.

Again with these mysterious Grey Wardens. Just who were these guys?

"And they all died at Ostagar thanks to Loghain," Aveline noted, her tone bitter.

"Not all," corrected Flemeth. "But the last are now beyond your reach."

"Aveline," Wesley croaked, his voice racked with pain.

In an instantly, Aveline was by her husband's side.

"Listen to corruption is a slow death. I can't-" He broke off in a fit of coughing.

"You can't ask me this! I won't!" Aveline protested, her face a mask of utter despair**. **

I empathised with Aveline predicament. I knew how hard of a choice she was facing. And how much it hurt to make it. To save my daughter from the Red Court I had to make an all too similar choice.

Memories flashed through my head. Chichén Itzá. Susan. An obsidian knife. Stifling the tears that were beginning to form in my eyes, I shook my head to clear away the images.

"Unless you would rather leave him to die a slow painful death, it has to been done," Carver said. "If can't bring yourself to do the deed then one of us could-"

"Shut the fuck up, you insensitive little prick," I interrupted, my voice as hard as sorrow and guilt that had come with the memory of Susan's death shifted into a cold fury at Carver's callousness towards Aveline dilemma. "If you so much as utter one more word, I'll kick your ass up between your ears."

Carver visible paled and snapped his mouth shut. No doubt he was remembering what I had done to the ogre.

"It's alright, Dresden," Aveline said placatingly. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Carver's right. Denying my husband's request will only serve to prolong his suffering. Better a swift end.

"Are you sure? If you go through with it, the act will weight heavy on your conscious for the rest of your life." I warned.

A steely resolve settled over her features. "I realise that. I just have to hope that in time I'll come to terms with this."

Wesley withdrew a dagger and held it before him, the tip aim at his heart. "Be strong, my love," he encouraged faintly.

Aveline placed her hands upon top of his and the two gazed at each other briefly. Then Wesley nodded and Aveline leant forward, plunging the dagger deep into his chest.

He let out a choking gasp and his body tensed in he relaxed and went limp.

With silent tears trailing down her checks, Aveline extended a hand and gently closed his eyelids.

"Without an end, there can be no peace," Flemeth remarked. "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."

I had a sinking feeling that she was right.

* * *

><p><strong>Author notes:<strong>

**In case any of you were wondering, Flemeth is not a dragon like ****Ferrovax. Dresden just made the assumption that she was. **

**What she actually is I'm going to leave a mystery like in games. There's just not enough concrete evidence for me to settle on a single idea on her identity. Currently, I'm leaning towards her being a Naagloshii. She got the yellow eyes and the shapeshifting**, **need I say more. **

**Sorry if my rambling has give the impression that Flemeth is going to feature more in this story but that not happening. I honestly can't see Harry allowing her to be revived. **

**Maybe if I do a fic of Dresden set during the first game (perhaps The Darkspawn Chronicles so Dresden can take the place of the warden- the ending would different from the DLC obviously) I'll use the idea. **

**Review responses:**

**Dur'id the Druid****: **The NeverNever and the Fade are one and the same. Dresden's world and The Dragon Age world just have different name for it. As for Hawke's armor, she wearing the standard leather armor you start off, not the champion's armor. Sorry if my description of it wasn't clear enough.

**Jason123456****:** I wish I could do updates in a few weeks but with work and the writer's block that keeps popping up it's more likely to be months.

**ww1990ww****: **I haven't made up my mind about whether or not any of the Fae or Archangels will be making an appearance. I'm toying with the idea that they'll talk to Dresden through proxies like they did in Ghost Story.

**Ibskib****:** Thanks for the advice and help, much appreciated. As for your questions, first off the reason Harry was able walk but not cast spells was due to the elfroot potion Carver gave him. In game the potion restores health and heals one injury. So I felt that the potion would help Harry recover enough to travel but it wouldn't have any effect on his magical energy as it had no lyrium in it (I see no reason why lyrium potion wouldn't work for harry).

As for why Harry didn't help the Hawke siblings' and Aveline fight, he recognised that they had it under control and so avoid using magic to give his strength a chance to recover incase of an emergency later. While Harry had regained some his strength, it wasn't enough to deal with the ogre which is why he resorted to using soul fire. Don't worry; once he has a chance to rest properly Harry will get more involved.

As for identifying Bethany connection to the Fade (which is just another name for the NeverNever), it's my belief that with Harry's talent and his experience with detecting magical energy and the NeverNever he should be able to figure it out. Plus I like to think that as the Winter Knight, Harry more in tune with spiritual world than before (Unsure if it would be canon though).


	3. Chapter 3

**The Wizard of Kirkwall  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age or The Dresden file. They are rightful the property of Bioware and Jim Butcher.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Career Choices <strong>

Flemeth got us safely to a town called Gwaren before head off to her 'appointment'.

The town looked like something out of the world history channel. There wasn't a trace of twenty first century architecture anywhere. No sign of any modern day technology either. There were no power lines, no cars, not even a single street light. It was like I'd travelled back in time.

A sense of worry began to grow inside of me as I followed that train of thought.

During our trek to Gwaren there hadn't been any hint of modern civilization either. Instead of asphalt, the roads were cobble. Paths were hard packed clay, not concrete. Wooden sign posts were used rather than metal street signs. I had attributed it to the remote rural area but as I surveyed the town around me, I started to believe that may not be the case.

There were also everyone's outfits to consider. I had originally not given my companions' getup much thought as such rustic clothing andarmourwas commonplace in the supernatural world. But a small group of people was one thing. For there to be an entire town dressed in medieval fashion is another. Either this was the most authentic renaissance festival ever or I really had somehow travelled back in time.

While I didn't want to believe it I couldn't ignore that all the evidence seem to indicate that it was the latter of the two**. **That meant I had inadvertently broken the Sixth Law of Magic. If the White Council finds out they'll have me executed. It didn't matter that I hadn't violated the law of my own volition, just the fact that I had was enough to sign my death warrant.

If that wasn't bad enough I also had to worry about the inherent danger that every single action I make could possibly result in creating a paradox or altering the timeline. That level of paranoia and stress would swiftly reduce to a gibbering ball crazy if I didn't find some way to return to the present quickly.

First thing though, I had to find out where exactly I was in the past if I was to avoid any historic events.

"Could one of you tell me what the date it is, including the year?" I asked the group at large.

Hawke gave me a puzzled look. "I believe today is the 28th day of Guardian. As for year, it's the 30th year of the Dragon Age."

I frowned in confusion. I had anticipated some trouble in discerning the date since it would be unlikely these people used the Gregorian calendar. Hawke's answer however didn't make any sense. To the best of my knowledge there was no period in history that had been called the Dragon Age.

"I only understood about half of what you just said," I told Hawke.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Why's that? The answer I gave you wasn't exactly complicated."

"I'm a foreigner. We use a different calendar back home." It was the truth. Sort of.

"Ah. Guess I better explain then," Hawke said, her expression sheepish."Guardian is the second month of the year which consists of twelve thirty-day months**. **An Age is made up of a hundred years with the Dragon age being the ninth and current age of Thedas."

"Is Thedas the name of this country?" I had been meaning to ask but in our haste to escape the darkspawn I clean forgot.

"It's Ferelden actually. Thedas is the name of the known world. Even a foreigner should know that,"Hawke said, eyeing me speculatively.

For a second I didn't comprehend what Hawke had just told me. Then my eyes widen in shock as a horrible realisation struck me like a bolt of lightning.

Stars and Stones, I hadn't gone back in time. I had been transported to another world!

Just what the hell is going on? Everything was supposed to be over. I had died and should have been moving on to whatever awaited me in the afterlife. Instead I find myself having been miraculous revived on an alien world. There's no way this could be some random accident. Someone was behind this. But who?

Uriel cryptic parting words drifted through my mind."No matter where you go, there you are."

Was he the one responsible for my situation? Is so, then why? And for what purpose?

As I tried to sort through the hectic whirlpool of questions swirling about my brain, Carver spoke up.

"Education Dresden another time," he snapped impatiently. "We need to get to the docks before there aren't any ships left."

"The two of you are more than welcome to come with us to Kirkwall," Leandra offered, addressing Aveline and me.

"I will join you," Aveline replied. "With my husband and the king I served is gone there's no longer a reason for me to stay."

"Dresden?" Leandra prompted.

I had no real obligation to go with them but I had no other option. Staying here and try to survive on my own with no money in an unfamiliar country that was to be shortly overrun by darkspawn would be stupid.

"Count me in."

With that, we made our way down to the docks where with the meagre amount of coins that Aveline and the Hawke family possessed, we managed to buy passage on a small ship that was chartering refugees to Kirkwall.

"Boats," I muttered while trudging on board and descended into the hold with my new friends. "Why did it have to be boats?"

Historically, I seemed to have bad luck with boats. Partially with the Water Beetle, my brother Thomas' forty-two feet long ancient battered commercial fishing boat. On that boat alone I've been ambush by a gang of ghouls wanting to tear me apart, nearly slice up like mince meat by a demonic possessed teenage girl that looked like the demented love child of Medusa and Doctor Octopus -oh, and taking a .338 magnum-rifle round to the chest.

I'm not nautical, so I didn't know what type of boat this was but like everything else here it looked like it belonged in a historical museum. Which meant that it didn't possess any engines. Looks like the trip to Kirkwall was going to be a long one.

**(~)**

After two gruelling weeks of being tossed about by terrible storms we final reached our destination.

Kirkwall was a coastal city that was built on top of a cliff. The cliff form a natural imposing black 'wall' that was visible for miles, no doubt give the city's its namesake. A channel had been carved into the cliff, allowing boats to sail through a dark corridor of sheer walls that were hundreds of feet high.

Flanking either side of the entrance of the channel were two massive bronze statues. They were there for more than mere show. A massive chain net was suspended between the statues and the nearby lighthouse. When raised, the city would be able to close off the only navigable sea lane and bar anyone entrance.

We disembarked from the ship at an enormous fortress, its walls and battlements lined with red banisters displaying a white symbol that had to be the city's crest. In the middle of the structure, a single blocky tower rose high above the rest of the fortification.

"They're not letting anyone into the city," Aveline noted.

"What? That can't be!" Leandra protested.

"It's true. Look at them all."

She point to where a throng of people had gather at the exit of the docks. A line of guardsman stood before them, baring their way.

"They're Fereldans, just like us," Bethany commented.

"Are you really surprised?" Carver asked. "Everyone's fleeing the Blight, just as we are."

"And they would us all back to the wolves. Unbelievable," Aveline said in disgust, eyeing the guards.

Hawke shrugged. "I'm only surprised they let us dock."

"We need to find Gamlen. Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall. He can do something, I'm sure of it!" Leandra declared.

"Let's hope he received your letter," Carver said.

"The guards seem to be reporting to that man. Perhaps we should speak with him," Aveline suggested, indicated towards the lone guard that wasn't wearing a helmet.

We head towards him, pushing our way to the front of the crowd.

The man saw what we were doing and said, "Get back to the crowd, you lot. Trying to bully your way through won't get you into Kirkwall any faster!"

"But you do intend to let us in?" Aveline inquired.

The guard scoffed. "Ha! We have enough poor of our own in the Free Marches. We don't need you refugees piling up here like a middens heap!"

"I heard some call this place the Gallows. Is it a prision?" Hawke asked.

"Used to be, in the Imperial days," he answered. "They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed."

"So it's a prison for those with magic?" I asked curiously.

"Well, no more so than anywhere else. It's a Circle of Magi now," he clarified. "Magic is to serve mankind, not rule him, and mages are better locked up where they don't hurt anyone."

While I didn't know what a 'Circle of Magi' was but it sure sounded a lot like a prison to me.

"If this isn't a prison, how come you're not letting anyone into the city?"

"If it were up to me, I'd bar the gates and let you find somewhere else to beg. But it's not. Some of you lot might have legitimate business in the city. So Knight-commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out," he explained. "Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though."

"That's a templar title. Why would a city guardsman answer to the templars?" Hawke asked.

"We don't answer to her...but she's the power in Kirkwall. Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something against something she wanted...but he's sure never taken that chance."

It sounds like there's a power struggle going on between this Knight-commander Meredith and the viscount.

"Well, our business here is legitimate," Leandra told him. "We have family in the city and—"

"Yes, yes," the guard interpreted with an inpatient sigh. "Always the same story. You want in, talk to Captain Ewald. I'm just here to keep you refuse from climbing the walls."

He gesture to the flight of stairs behind him, indicating we were free to go on, then returned to surveying the crowd.

As we climbed up them and I notice that the walls were lined with bronze carvings. They were crudely drawn depictions of men with their hands clapped to the sides of their heads. I didn't have much context to go on but I guessed they must be renditions of the slaves from the 'Imperial Days'.

Also lining the interior of the Gallows were other refugees who failed to convince this Captain Ewald to let them into the city. Seeing how numerous their numbers were showed that our odds weren't very high. If we wanted entrance to the city we would have to be pretty damn convincing.

After reaching the landing we went down a corridor, rounded a corner and walked out into a giant courtyard. Filling the courtyard were bronze statues of tortured slaves, a ghastly memento of Kirkwall's history.

I could tell that the statues weren't built as some monument to the suffering of slaves. No, it had been designed with a far crueler purpose in mind. The aim of breaking a person's spirit. That there was no hope, no chance of them escaping their miserable fate.

Before a short staircase that lead up to an iron portcullis, a similar scene to our own at the docks was taking place.

A guardsman who had to be Captain Ewald was being confronted by a group of armed men in matching suits of bronze coloured armour.

As we approached Captain Ewald and the goon squad I was able to hear their conversation.

"What do you want? Money? I can pay you," the Head goon offered.

"All the gold in Thedas won't make the city any larger," Captain Ewald replied coolly, not tempted by the bribe at all.

"Don't give us that shit! Where are we supposed to go?" he demanded.

"I don't know, serah, but there's nothing for you here," Captain Ewald answered indifferently.

Frustrated, the Head goon snarled. "Let us through, you flaming blighter! We're not staying in this pit!"

"Then get back on your ship and leave. Kirkwall has no more room for refugees."

"The ship's already gone! We paid good coin to get here!" one of the goons objected.

"You and half of Ferelden," he pointed out. "There's nothing I can do! The city is full!"

"Surely there's a bit of extra room for the pretty people?" Hawke joked, interrupting their conversation.

"I find keeping my neck away from Knight-commander Meredith's blade far more attractive than any of you," Captain Ewald replied, deadpan. "We've been letting you Fereldans in for months. You're too late. There's no more room!"

"But we have family here," Bethany protested. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

He looked at her, his expression unconvinced. "I've heard claims like that a thousand times already. Trust me. We'll find some ships to take you all back to Ferelden—eventually. Until then, you stay here."

"Since we're stuck here until then could you at least send someone to look for their relative in city to prove that we're not lying," I asked.

"Our uncle Gamlen Amell knows we're coming," Hawke informed Captain Ewald.

"Gamlen," he said, sounding surprised. "I know that name..."

"He's a nobleman here in the city. Our family has an estate," Carver stated.

Captain Ewald scoffed. "A nobleman? The only Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together. He comes back, I'll bring you to him. But I don't have time to—"

"What? You're going to let them through?" Head goon exclaimed.

"I didn't say anything about—"

"We've been here for four days! They just got here!" another goon protested.

This must have been the last straw as the Head goon remaining patience vanished. "That's it! We're carving our way out of here. Men!"

With a yell, they drew their weapons, intent on cutting down all that was in their path. Which also included us. So before they could carve us up like meat in a butcher's shop I hurled my right hand forward, calling, _"Ventas servitas!"_

Magic surged forth from my outstretched hand and lashed out. A chill wind rose in a sudden roar, a howling blizzard that whirled into being just in front of me and then hurtled out toward them.

It ploughed into them, catching them up like they were leaves and scattered them across the courtyard. They lay in a daze on the courtyard's flagstones, battered and half frozen. The force of the blizzard had also stripped their weapons from their grasp.

Captain Ewald shook his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable!" He remarked. I couldn't tell if he was referring to my display of magic or the actions of the goon squad.

Another guardsman came sprinting up to him. "Captain! Are you all alright?"

"I am, no thanks to you. Where is everyone? Go find them. I want these men under lock and key before they come up with anymore bright ideas."

The guard nodded hastily and rushed off.

Captain Ewald nodded to me in gratitude."You have my thanks. And my silence. The templars won't hear it from me that you're a mage."

"That nice and all but how about letting us in the city?" I asked.

"Look, I can't get you into the city. It's not my decision, but I'll find Gamlen and bring him here."

"I do hope that it doesn't take too long for him to find Gamlen," Leandra said, as we watched Captain Ewald go up the stairs and through the portcullis.

Carver glanced at the beaten goons who were now being hauled off by the guards. "As long as it's not four day like it was for them."

We settled down on the landing in front of the portcullis to wait. While we waited I used the time to order my thoughts and review my current situation.

Fact one: In spite of everything to the contrary I was alive.

Fact two: If my recent use of magic was any indicator I still held the mantle of the Winter Knight. That meant I was still beholden to Mab in exchange for her giving me the power I needed to rescue Maggie**.**

Oh, God. All the people who'd gotten hurt, helping me...they'd done it for nothing.

I hadn't escaped Mab and what she could make me become. Nor her rage my attempt to cheat her would have caused. I had seen how she had punished her pervious knight, Lloyd Slate, for defying her. She had him tortured into insanity over the years before I'd finally ended his torment by slitting his throat with an obsidian knife. No doubt a similar fate awaited me.

Or maybe Mab would just scold me in that terrible voice of hers. I shudder at the memory of it. It had been filled with such rage, such fury and such hate that every vowel had clawed at my skin and every consonant had felt like someone was taking a staple gun to my ears. That voice had left me screaming in agony and bleeding at the ears.

But if they were the price I had to pay for making my daughter safe, so be it. I'll deal with the consequences of my choices when the time comes.

Fact three: I was in a different world. One that wasn't the Nevernever, the spiritual world of ghosts, fairies and other fantastic beings of every description, that exists alongside our own mortal reality, like a two sides of the same coin kind of thing.

Fact four: I was stranded here without a clue on how to get home. That wasn't good as back home my friends and loved ones were facing a dire situation.

When I'd destroyed the Red Court of Vampires I hadn't thought past that present moment, thought through the long-term consequences of wiping out the entire Red Court. They were one of the major supernatural nations in the world. They controlled a continent, South and most of Central America, and had holdings all over the world. They owned property, stocks, corporations and accounts. They as much owned some governments. They had assets of every kind. The value of what the Red Court had controlled was almost literally incalculable. And I had thrown it all up in the air and declared one giant game of finders, keepers.

The power vacuum had every two-bit power and second rat organizations in the supernatural world seeing a chance to found an empire. Chicago had managed to stave off the worst of it so far thanks to my friends and the resident criminal organizations, Baron John Marcone and the White Court of Vampires. But things weren't looking too good for them in long run. The sooner I got back and cleaned up the mess I'd made, the better.

I was snapped out of my gloomy thoughts by Leandra offering me my share of lunch.

"I know it not much," she said apologetically, handing me some strips of meat, bread and a water canteen. "But we need to ration the little supplies we have left since we don't possess the coin to buy more. Hopefully Gamlen will arrive before we run out."

"Are you sure he'll be able to help?" I asked between bites of food. "You say he's a noble but Captain Ewald seems to know him instead as a moneyless weasel."

"I don't know," she answered, a hint of worried in her tone. "My family, the Amell's, are one of the most wealth nobles in the city. Well, at least they were when I left."

I eyed her plain clothes. "I'm guessing you didn't take that wealth with you when you left."

Her expression turned bitter. "When I eloped with Malcolm instead of marrying Comte Guillaume de Launcet like my parents wanted, they threw me out without a silver to my name. And I've lost it all now. Everything. My parents, my home, Malcolm. It's all gone."

I understand her feeling of loss. My apartment where I'd lived hadn't been much more than a big room in the basement of a century-old wooden boarding-house. It wasn't much of a place, but it was the only home I had, and I was comfortable there. But it, along with practically all my worldly possessions, were burned to ashes by the Eebs, a vampire assassin couple.

"I know how much Lothering meant to mother, but we haven't lost everything. There's still the estate here in Kirkwall," Bethany reassured her.

"And remember that you still have the most important thing. Your family." I reminded her.

The bitterness faded from her face. "You're right," she agreed. Her voice warmed then and she smiled at me."And it's thanks to you that I still have all my children. Nothing I can say would ever be enough to convey my gratitude for saving my Carver."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Yeah, well. There no need to make a big deal out of it."

She let out a soft chuckled. "You know, you're much the same as my husband. I don't mean how you're a mage like him but in personality. No matter the situation, be it good or ill, he never let an opportunity for humour pass. Always taming the shadows with questionable wit."

I gave a lopsided grin. "Quick of wit and mouthing off at inappropriate moments, that's me. But as I mention before, I'd prefer if you referred to me as a wizard instead of a mage."

Bethany frowned in puzzlement. "I've never heard of such term before. Is that what mages are called where you are from?"

"It is," I said with a nod.

"And where exactly are you from?" Carver wanted to know.

I briefly considered revealing that I was actually from another world, but then I decided against it. It wasn't that I didn't trust them but because I doubted they would believe me. I didn't have any real proof, no way to prove my claim. It would just sound like the ramblings of a crazy person and I wasn't keen on being hauled off to a lunatic asylum. Better to play it safe and lie for now.

"Um. I am from... a distant land across the ocean called America," I said. It was the truth, just not the whole truth.

"You're from the unexplored lands beyond Thedas?!" Aveline exclaimed, looking surprised.

Everyone else's expressions shared similar a look.

"That would explain your lack of basic Thedosian knowledge," Hawke said.

"And here I figured you just simple." Carver remarked.

"Says the one who shot himself in the foot with his own arrow," Bethany said snidely.

"I was seven at time," Carver said defensively. Beside, your one to talk. What about the time you..."

While Leandra kept the siblings bickering from getting too out of hand—Hawke had gleefully joined her sister in teasing Carver—I turned to Aveline, who was watching the ensuing chaos with wry amusement, and asked if she could teach me about Thedas.

"Sure," Aveline agreed. "It will help me pass the time while we wait for this Gamlen to arrive. But in return you have to tell me about your homeland."

"Fair enough." I saw little harm in describing life on Earth to the others as long as I carefully avoided anything that hinted I was from another world.

Aveline reached into her backpack and withdrew a thick leather-bound book. On its cover was a black symbol of the sun with an eye in it centre. She handed it to me.

"Here, it's a codex. It's a collection of entries about the history, lore, places, creatures and people of Thedas. Once you've finished reading it I'll explain the topics it touches upon with greater detail as well as answering any questions you may have."

"Thanks Aveline, this is just what I need to start making sense of this place." Doing my best to ignore the arguing voices of the Hawkes, I opened the codex and started reading.

**(~)**

I lay on the cold hard flagstones gazing up at the two moons illuminating the night sky, irrefutable proof that I was indeed no longer on earth. Despite the late hour and my fatigue sleep eluded me.

When night had fallen we'd bedded down in a tucked away corner of the courtyard, doing our best to make ourselves comfortable. The Hawke family had managed to drift off into sleep but no such luck for myself. I wasn't the only still awake however.

I glanced over to where Aveline rested against the fortress wall. Her usually bright green eyes were now dull and weary. No. Her eyes weren't weary. They were haunted. There could be only one cause for that look. Wesley.

Sitting up, I asked her in a low voice so to not wake the others."Can't sleep?"

She twitched one shoulder in what might have been a shrug.

"I can solve that if you want. I know a spell that can give you a dreamless sleep," I offered.

"That is tempting, but I'm fine," she lied.

"Aveline, look. I'm sure that …that things will work out. I know how you're hurting, how you must feel, but—"

"Do you?" she asked quietly, her voice a harsh whisper. "How could you know how I feel? Did you have to kill the person you love so they wouldn't have turned into monster?"

I sat quietly for a full minute before answering. "Yes, I did."

She turned to regard me, fixing me in a stare with those haunted eyes of her. "What happened?"

"Where I'm from we have creatures know as Red Court Vampires. They're slimy bat-like creatures that live off the blood of humans and are capable of infecting humans with their vampire traits. The woman I loved, Susan, was infected by them. Though she was still human, technically, she'd been given their thirst for blood. If she ever sated it, she would transform all the way into one of them. Some part of her would die, and she would be one of the monsters, body and soul."

"I take it that she ended up...?"

I nodded numbly, staring down at my hands. I could still remember the hot flash of red from a cut throat beneath my fingers, and I had to bow my head for a moment in an effort to keep the memory from surging into my thoughts in all its hideous splendour.

"For years she was able to resist the temptation but when a person she had trusted betrayed her, she lost control and killed him."

"And you were forced to kill her lest she become one of them," she said with great empathy in her voice. She looked at me and something like gratitude touched her eyes. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know that it must have pained you to do so."

I gave her a wan smile."Just wanted you to know that I understand what you're going through."

"It's a comfort knowing that someone does. It makes me feel like I'm not alone in this," she said, heavy eyes closing.

I leaned back to rest on the flagstones once more and closed my eyes. "Same here."

**(~)**

"It's been three days. This waiting has to end," Aveline said as she paced back and forth in frustration.

"I'm sure it won't be much longer. Gamlen must still be looking for us!" Leandra assured her.

"And if he's not?"

"Wait," Hawke interrupted, straightening from where she had been leaning against a statue pedestal and turning to face the portcullis. "I think someone's coming."

A man had come through the portcullis and was looking around in search of someone.

"Leandra!" he called out, as he spotted us. "Damn, girl, the years haven't been kind to you."

"Gamlen!" Leandra cry out in relief. She flung her arms around him in a firm hug.

So this was Gamlen. He was pale, a little taller than Leandra and was sporting a five o'clock shadow. His hair was that kind of salt-and-pepper colour which he kept swept back away from his dark blue eyes. For one of the wealthiest noble in Kirkwall he was dressed rather plainly. He wore a green and yellow checkered shirt underneath a faded leather waistcoat. The bottoms of his grey pants were tucked into knee length boots.

"Let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this. The Blight, your husband dead... I'd, ah, figured you'd pretty much be Fereldan for life."

"Oh, Gamlen. Our home in Fereldan is gone, destroyed by the darkspawn. You have to help us. We don't have anywhere else to go," Leandra pleaded.

Gamlen sighed. "Oh, Marker save me. Leandra, don't go put all of your hopes in me. I don't even know if I can help you get in."

"Would it help if I said you were my favourite uncle?" Hawke asked.

"It'd make me feel better, but that's about it," Gamlen replied with a chuckle. "You see, I was hoping to grease some palms, but the knight-commander's been cracking down. We're going to need more grease."

"But... what about estate?" Leandra asked. "Surely Father left something when he died."

"Right, about the estate... It's, uh, gone. To settle a debt. I've been meaning to write to you," Gamlen said apologetically.

Translation: I've gambled away the entire family fortune. It would seem that Captain Ewald description of him was pretty accurate.

"Well, waiting for you was a waste of time seeing as you can't help us," I said bluntly.

"I am blighted helping!" He protested. "I've got two offers of work from people who've got the coin to open those gates... if you're not too delicate about the company you keep."

"Do we need to stay in Kirkwall? Can't we try another city?" Hawke suggested.

Gamlen shook his head. "Every city on the coast's been hip-deep in Fereldan since the Blight. You could try your luck further inland, I suppose. But it won't be easy."

"No. We're not putting mother through that," Bethany said.

"I agree. We came here, we're staying here," Carver added.

Hawke sighed. "Let's hear it then, Uncle. What do you have in mind?"

"Like I said before, I found some people who might be willing to pay your way into the city. The catch is that you three have to work off the debt. For a year."

"A year!" Leandra exclaimed.

"It's the best I could do!" Gamlen said defensively. "Trust me when I say a bunch of refugees won't get a better anywhere else."

"So you're selling us into indentured servitude? That's your idea?" Hawke asked incredulously.

"Think of it as having a job waiting for you in your new home!" He answered with faux cheerfulness.

"Wonderful," Bethany commented, deadpan.

"I managed to convince my contacts, Meeran and Athenril, to come to the Gallows to meet you personally. Either one of them can help you. All you need to do is find them in the courtyard and convince them you're worth the trouble," Gamlen explained. "Meeran heads up the mercenary company, the Red Iron. They're looking for recruits. As for Athenril... I guess you might call her a smuggler."

"Oh Gamlen, I don't know about this," Leandra fretted.

"It's a lot of coin, Leandra. Don't go expecting our name to carry the kind of weight it used to," Gamlen informed her bluntly.

"And what of Aveline and me?" I inquired. "Are your contacts going to pay for us too?"

Aveline frowned. "I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf."

Gamlen shrugged. "Can't see that it makes a difference. You both look like you who can pull your own weight."

"Then you come with us." Leandra decided.

My first instinct was to refuse their offer but that was just my pride talking. I doubt that there would be anyone else who'd be willing to cover the cost of getting me into the city. Damn, but I hate to swallow my pride.

"I...have no real option. Thank you." Aveline said.

"I'll find some work and help with paying off your debt," I promised the Hawke siblings.

Hawke nodded her thanks. "I'll hold you to that."

"Which one are we looking for?" Bethany asked her older sister but it was Carver who answered.

"I say Athenril," he said.

"I would have thought that someone like you would have chosen to be a mercenary rather than a smuggler," I said, curious about his choice.

Bethany rolled her eyes. "It's because the smuggler is a woman."

"That's not true," Carver protested, his expression aggrieved. "I figured that mother more at ease if we did the less dangerous line of work."

"Riiiiight," Hawke drawled, her tone indicating that she wasn't the least bit convinced. "Still, you raise a good point. Athenril it is then."

We left Gamlen and Leandra to wait and proceeded down the stairs into the courtyard. At the bottom of them was Captain Ewald, occupied his usually post. "So that was your uncle, was it? Good. I thought he was another confidence man trying to sell promises. I don't suppose he has the coin you'll need to get in."

"He had some ideas." Hawke replied.

He hmmed thoughtfully. "They always do. If it were just up to me, I'd let you through. But there are a lot of eyes watching, a lot of palms that need greasing. My suggestion, wait for a ship and hope the next city hasn't already closed their doors."

"We'll take that under advisement," I said. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to known where we find a woman called Athenril? She meant to be somewhere here in the courtyard."

"Athenril. Yes, I know where she." He pointed. "She's the elvish woman over there, lurking in the far corner of the courtyard."

"Thanks." We made our way over to where Captain Ewald had indicated. Loitering there were three elves.

According to the codex Aveline had given to me, they use to be an immortal and magically talented race that lived in harmony with the natural world. They were friendly with humans at first, but soon discovered that exposure to the human caused the elves to age and die themselves. In fear, the elves withdrew from human contact. The Tevinter Imperium, a nation ruled by mages, viewed the elves' isolation with hostility. They declared war on the elves and enslaved them. After their fall to the Tevinter Imperium and generations of slavery, the elves had not only lost their immortality but most of their cultural heritage and identity as well. Currently, their few numbers have been scattered all over Thedas, living in either forests as primitive nomads or in cities as impoverished outcasts.

The three elves were shorter than the average human, had slender, lithe build and pointed ears. There were two males and one female which had to be Athenril.

She had light brown hair that was tied up in a bun, except for the fringe, which was framed around her emerald coloured eyes. She was dressed in armour, which consisted of a shirt of tightly woven overlapping leather straps, with green shoulder guards and leggings, fashioned to resemble the leaves of a tree. She didn't wear any shoes, instead choosing to go barefoot. Her slender arms were covered by a dull grey cloth, on top of which she had strapped a pair of silver bracers decorated with leafy vines carvings to her forearms. Buckled to her slim waist was a large knife.

"Athenril, my name is Hawke and I believe that my uncle spoke to you about getting us into the city." Hawke said.

"You must be Gamlen's niece. Interesting," Athenril said, eyeing Hawke."I don't know what he told you about us, but he certainly told us a great deal about you."

"He didn't say anything about me, did he?" Bethany asked worriedly.

"Enough to pique our interest, provided you can justify your uncle's confidence."

"I'd like to know about what we'd be doing for you," Hawke said.

"I can be honest. We don't compete with the thieves' guild," Ahenril admitted. "But we keep our fingers in a lot of pots. That said, we're not killers or slavers. Anything short of that, however, is fair game."

Her stance eerily reflected a similar one held be Baron John Marconi. While Marconi, unlike Athenril, didn't mind have people killed, he would not tolerate any harm befalling a child. Rumour has it that he had vanished anyone in his organisationwho had.

"Do what you want," Aveline told Hawke. "But this sounds fishy to me."

"We can't afforded to be choosy," Bethany reminded her.

"Get us into the city can't be cheap," Carver stated.

"If you're as good your uncle claims, we're hoping you'll be worth it." Athenril smiled at us. "After all, it's not every day we're offered an apostate's services."

"It appears our uncle likes to talk," Bethany said, annoyed.

"The templars in Kirkwall like to think they have all mages properly leashed, but when has that ever been true? We can keep them from taking notice while you're with us. Wouldn't be the first time," Athenril assured her.

"Alright then, tell me what you need done," Hawke said.

Atheril gestured, indicating for him to come closer to avoid being over heard. "There's a merchant named Cavril. Friend of the templars, so they let him set up his little shop here in the Gallows. We supplied him in return for a piece of the take, but now he won't pay up. We can't go near him without him screaming for the guards— but you can. Get our money for him and you're in."

**(~)**

Cavril's shop was set up next to a tall statue in the back corner of the courtyard. Behind a pair of tables displaying a number of staffs, stood a richly dressed bald head man flanked by a pair of armed thugs, arguing with a tired looking woman.

The bald man, who had to be Cavril, was saying to the woman, "I already told you. I can't give you any more for them!"

"But that was everything we have!" the woman protested. "It's all we brought with us!"

"And I feel for you, serah, but it's the best I can do," he said, turned his back on her. He didn't sounding the least bit sympathetic.

"If they just let us into the city, I could get three times that price!" she told him.

Cavril sighed. "Myron?"

One of the thugs approached the woman and loomed over her menacingly. "Your business is done," he informed the woman in a rough voice.

"But..." the woman started to protest but then gives up with sad sigh of defeat.

I felt hot, seething anger run through me. These people had lost practically everything. Their home, their loved ones, and instead of helping them, this man choose to swindle them of what little they had left.

Hawke notice my angry and signalled to me discreetly with her hand to just wait moment. As soon as the woman had dejectedly left the store, Cavril swung back around and focus his attention on us.

"Now then!" he said brightly. "What can I do for you, serah?"

"I believe you owe your business partners something?" Hawke said, wasting no time in getting straight to the point.

Cavril's cheery business manner vanished. "Oh... I see."

"Should I go tell the guards?" the thug called Myron asked.

Cavril held up his hand. "Not just yet. I want to hear this." He regarded Hawke with a cool gaze. "So Athenril sent you to collect, did she? Too cowardly to do it herself?"

"Care to step in, here?" Hawke asked me.

Looks like Hawke intents for me to do to Cavril what his thug Myron just did to that woman. "It would be my pleasure."

I walked up to Carvil till we were barely centimetres apart. I let cold stone flow into the features of my face, into the timbre of my voice. "Carvil. Either you pay what you owe or I do to you what Jabba the Hutt did to Han Solo."

Carvil swallowed nervously. "Ah... And what did this 'Jabba' do?"

With an inaudible muttered "_Infriga",_ I drew away the heat in the vicinity around me. The temperature plummeted dramatically and the courtyard flagstones around me became covered in glittering ice. "He had him frozen solid and put on display as a warning to others."

"Stay back! Just... take what's in the chest. Take it all," he offered quickly in panic.

Hawke went over to the chest and began rummaging around inside of it.

"Now I'm getting out of here. Let those guards find someone else to buy dog-land junk." Carvil fumed as he left the store, followed by his two thugs.

Hawke stood up, finished with emptying the chest of all its contents. "I've got Antheril money. Let's get it back and hope that this will have proven our worth to her."

We returned to where Antheril was waiting for us. "Here you go, as requested," Hawke said, handing her the money.

"Will you look at that," she said, sounding impressed. "Tell your uncle we'll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard."

**(~)**

"Any luck?" Gamlen inquired.

"Yes, Athenril has agreed to help us," Hawke answered.

"I'll speak to her and see when the bribes can be made. Wait here," Gamlen instructed, before hurrying off.

"I guess we did it," Carver said. "We're here to stay, at least for a while."

"Well, we're off to a fantastic start. Let's see what else this city has in store for us," Hawke said cheerily.

As I gaze at what was visible of the city of Kirkwall beyond the Gallow, I had an ominous feeling that whatever this city had in store for us, it wouldn't be good.

* * *

><p><strong>Author note:<strong>

**And that's the last of the rewrite chapters. Next chapter is the one year time skip to the beginning of act 1. I plan to have the act one through to three happening over the course of a single year unlike the games. Besides the first time skip between the prologue and act one, I feel as though the other skips between each act didn't have any real form of impact or effected the plot at all. So since they're not necessary I'm getting rid of them. Also, minor spoiler of what's to come:**

**I plan to implement act one as Hawke and Harry doing all those quests to pay off her debt. Then they simply acquire the deep roads map to be allowed to join the expedition. I always thought it was unreasonable that Hawke had to pay to join when the map should have been enough. To me it seemed that Bioware was unable to think of a proper reason and motivation as to why Hawke would do all those quests and so used needing money for the expedition as an excuse. **

**About the pairings for this story: **

**Having read the Harry Dresden novels, I believe that Harry wouldn't enter a relationship with either Merrill or Bethany. Sorry but I want to try and keep Harry as close as possible to his canon personality. Which also means he will not be hooking up with Fenris, Anders or any other guys. **


	4. Chapter 4

**The Wizard of Kirkwall**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age or The Dresden file. They are rightful the property of Bioware and Jim Butcher.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Pirate Captain and The Dalish Mage<strong>

**Hightown - Daytime**

I once again read the note that Athenril's messenger boy, Pryce, had given me.

_**Dresden,**_

_**The word is that you're the person to see about tracking down hard to find objects.**_

_**Come by the Blooming Rose if you're interested in some work.**_

_**Captain Isabela.**_

I wonder why this Isabela had chosen the Blooming Rose as our meeting place. You would think that she would have picked a more discreet location to meet with a practitioner of the magical arts than Hightown's brothel.

Not that the lack of discretion bothered me though. If I'd cared about keeping a low profile I wouldn't have literally advertised the fact I was a wizard to the entire city barely a month after we were allowed into Kirkwall.

During those first few weeks in Kirkwall it hadn't take me long to realise that with the countless other refugees in the city the possibility of me finding ordinary work were slim to none. So rather than continuing to waste my time on the off chance that someone may hire me I had instead opted to recreate my detective business.

And so across the city's numerous public noticeboards I had put up flyers that read:

_**HARRY DRESDEN—WIZARD**_

_**Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations.**_

_**Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Prices.**_

_**No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties, or Other Entertainment.**_

Of course the Hawkes and Aveline had thought I'd gone mad since I didn't Athenril protection from the templars like Bethany did.

I hadn't been worried though. I was fairly confident that I could avoid being dragged off to the Circle by those zealots. Besides, even on the off chance they actually manage to capture me they wouldn't be able keep me imprisoned anyway since I can simple escape through the NeverNever via the Ways.

The following eleven months proved though that my confidence hadn't been misplaced as every attempt the templars had made to apprehend me resulted in failure thanks to my liberal use of escape and camouflage potions.

Unfortunately I wasn't having nearly the same amount of success with work. Due to the mistrust the general populous had of magic I received relatively few clients. So if wanted to make a living and help the Hawkes pay off the remained of their debt I couldn't afford to be overly picky about my clientele.

So here I was, currently sitting at a table in a common room of a brothel, waiting for this Isabela while ignoring the curious looks I was getting from some of the other patrons who recognised me.

"Harry Dresden?" asked a feminine voice.

The owner of the voice was an attractive woman whose appearance practically screamed pirate.

Her tanned complexion and piercings meant that she was a Rivaini. The woman's outfit consisted of a blue embroidered bandana that kept her shoulder length brown hair out of her face, a skimpy white chemise bodice that displayed a generous amount of cleavage, mid thigh length leather boots, a blue sash slung low across her hips and fingerless leather gloves. Encircling her neck was a thick ornate golden choker that matched the pair of dagger hilts jutting out from her shoulders.

"That's me," I confirmed, gesturing for her to take the vacant seat opposite me. "I take it you're Captain Isabela?"

"I am, although I must admit the title rings a bit hollow without my ship," she said as she sat down.

"What happen to it?"

"There was a storm. My ship ran aground on the reefs near the city. I managed to make to shore but most of my crew weren't so lucky, the poor sods. I knew some of those men for almost ten years," she said, her voice full of sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry," I muttered somewhat lamely.

She gave me a small smile to let me know that she appreciated the gesture.

"I'll miss them. Some more than other though."

She then swept a critical eye over me; taking in my appearance."I must say you're not what I had expected," she admitted. Gesturing at my wizard's staff, which was propped up against the table beside me, she said, "If not for your staff I'd have mistake you for a rogue."

I could see where she was coming from. I wore nothing like the usual attire for practitioners here. My outfit consisted of a plain steel grey shirt, navy blue pants and brown boots. Normally my black mantle leather duster would have raised eyebrows but here in Thedas, where people walked casually around in medieval armour, it was considered part of the norm.

There was also my physical appearance. With my long, lean muscular figure and vertical scar under my left eye, I had more in common with the image of rogue than that of a mage's. Though I'd like to believe I resembled some old-school Hollywood character with a duelling scar on his cheek.

I shrugged. "Not a fan of robes, too impractical. So what can I do for you? Your note heavily implied that you want me to find something."

"That's right," Isabela confirmed with a nod, "I lost a very important relic when I was shipwrecked and need you to locate it for me."

I frowned. Water, especially running water, grounds out most magic. My thaumaturgy or divination wouldn't be of much use. If I was to find this relic it would have to be done the old fashion way.

"You realise that it most likely at the bottom ocean?" I asked.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But I have no choice but to hope that the relic somehow survived the wreck and wash up on shore somewhere. It's the only thing that can clear my debt to Castillon."

"Who's Castillon?"

Isabela scowled, her distaste for the man clearly evident. "He's a powerful merchant based in Antivan with ties to the Felicisima 's not the type of man you want to owe a debt to. That's why it is essential that you find the relic. "

"What's the deal with this relic? Why does this Castillon want it so bad?" I inquired.

"I don't really know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "He has me chasing it down as payback for freeing his slaves."

"What's this about you freeing slaves?" I asked.

"I've done some jobs for Castillon in the past, smuggling lyrium, jewels and the occasional criminal acquaintance. So when he asked me to escort his cargo ship I didn't think much of at first. But partway through the job I got a bad feeling so I board his ship. Found out that the cargo he was transporting were slaves. There were nearly two hundred of them- elves, humans and even children." Her expression twisted into one of absolute disgust. "It was sickening. They'd paid Castillon to take them away from the Blight. He took their money and sold them into slavery. Even I could see that was wrong. So I freed all the slaves and helped them to escape..."

Her voice trailed off and she stared at me, eyebrows raised.

I realized then that I was breathing hard and that my breath was pluming into frost on the exhale. The mantle of power of the Winter Knight had noticed my desire to inflict harm to this asshole and was responding accordingly.

I closed my eyes and fought to bring the Winter inside of me under control. I'd done it often enough over the past year that it was almost routine. The usual deep-breathing techniques did nothing to stave off the howling, primitive need for violence that came with the Winter mantle. The only one method I'd found that worked was to assert my more rational mind.

So I went over my basic multiplication tables in my head, followed by half a dozen mathematical theorems, all the while reminding myself that tracking down and killing Castillon would be morally wrong, no matter how much the scumbag deserved it.

The Winter mantle snarled and spat its disappointment as it receded and flowed back out of my thoughts, leaving my breathing and body temperature returned to normal.

"Sorry about that," I apologised. "That happens when ever I get angry. It's...um...just a small harmless side of effect of my magic. Nothing to get worked up about."

"What's there to get worked up about? It's not as if you did anything particular dangerous, just weird," Isabela stated calmly.

"Normally people freak and start screaming apostate or abomination at the tiniest hint of magic."

She shrugged casually. "Mages don't worry me and I don't believe the templars when they say I should be worried. I've learned that people are perfectly capable of be abominations without being possessed and that coin can control a person just as easily as blood magic. Beside, I'm more likely to be shanked in a bar than eaten by an abomination. You can hear those coming a mile away."

She pantomimed an attacking abomination. "Grr. Argh! Oh, is that an abomination coming to eat us? We should get out of here."

"You forgot they also go rawr too," I commented straight face, earning an amused laugh from her in response.

"So this relic Castillon wants, what exactly is it?"

"Some ancient tome of lore written by historic figure whose name I can't pronounce," she replied.

"Could you give me a description of this tome so I'll be able to recognise it when I it?" I asked.

Isabela nodded and proceeded to describe the tome in detail. Once she had finished I grabbed my staff and stood up from the table.

"Well, I'll see what I can do. I will report back to you when I make any progress. Where will I be able to find you?"

"Either here or at The Hanged Man." She gave me a sultry smile. "I have a room there; if you're looking for... company later feel free to pay me a visit. You could show me how good you are with that staff of yours."

I felt the Winter in me stirring again, taking notice of whatever had gotten to my sex drive, searchingfor an outlet. That wasn't a good thing. Winter thought sex was almost as much fun as violence, and that they went even better mixed together.

I bid Isabela a hasty farewell and made a speedy exit from the brothel before Winter and my libido could overcome my restraint. Under Winter's influence there was no telling how I would behave during such...activities. Best to avoid it, no matter how isolated it made me feel.

**(~)**

**Low town – Daytime**

"My, my. If isn't the infamous mage from beyond Thedas," Elegant said by way of greeting.

"Hello, Elegant," I replied, ignoring her use of that ridiculous title the people of Kirkwall had branded me with.

"Lady Elegant, if you don't mind," she corrected. "I'm a married woman now."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. Now I take you're here to sell me some of those unique potions of yours?"

I nodded; taking off the satchel I was carrying and handed it to her, receiving a fat coin purse in exchange. "A dozen anti-venom, weight-loss and pick-me-up potions."

Selling potions were a quick and easy source of income if not a large one. The talismans that I sold which prevented possession brought in a tidy sum but unfortunately they took a fair amount of time to create.

"Any chance I could convince you to change mind about those love potions?" she asked.

"No." I responded flatly.

Elegant let out a disappointed sight. "Shame, the Blooming Rose would pay a fortune for them. Give the Hawke siblings my regards would you?"

I nodded, say good bye and head off towards the Hawke residences.

With their estate in High town gone, the Hawkes had been forced to stay with Gamlen in Low town. I can't image it was pleasant, five people and dog having to live in such cramped quarters.

It wasn't long before I was knocking on the front door of a small hovel that had been the Hawke's home for the past year.

Thankfully, it's Leandra who answers the door and not her deadbeat of a brother.

"Harry," she said, smiling. "Here to see Marian or Bethany? I'm afraid Carver has dragged them off with him somewhere and they neglected to tell me where they going."

"That's alright. Just came by to drop off this," handing her the coin purse I had received earlier.

"Oh, thank you," Leandra said gratefully. "This should cover the money Carver spent at the Blooming Rose last night. You'd think common sense would tell him that is a bad idea to continually wasting money like that when we're still fifty sovereigns in debt. I blame Gamlen, he's been a bad influence on him."

"Hey!" protested a muffled voice from inside; its owner said bad influence.

"I could have word with him if you'd like," I offered.

"No, I'll handle it. You do too much for us as it is." She began tick off points with her figures. "You always lending a hand with the work my children have to do for Athenril. Every week you give us a portion of your earnings. You provide us with potions and magical protections. Not to mention all the magic lessons you give Bethany whenever you have spare moment."

Not long after we'd arrived in Kirkwall I'd taken Bethany on as my apprentice. Ever since father's death she had felt isolated due to magical gift, all the while constantly blaming herself for being the cause that prevented her family from living an ordinary life.

With me having revealed myself as a wizard in order to save Carver's life, it hadn't taken long for Bethany to approach me for guidance. See how much she was suffering it hadn't much for me to agreed to be her mentor.

As I tutored her in magic over the following months I helped her overcome a lifetime of Chantry propaganda, disabusing her of the notion that she was a sleeping monster waiting to be unleash on the world, and instilling in her my own beliefs and views on magic and how it should be used.

"Alright, but if you have trouble getting Carver to listen to reason you let me know," I instructed. "I'll be heading off then. I need to check up on my new charge."

**(~)**

It didn't take me long to reach the segregated quarter of Low town known as the Alienage, a collection of cramped slums which served as the homes of Kirkwall's elves.

The place was a haphazard pile of tenements and dirty shops; the only thing of note in the whole quarter was the central square, where a well-tended oak tree grew, its vibrantly green leaves forming a canopy that nearly covered the entire square. At the painted base of the tree lay numerous offering.

As I made my way through the alienage I exchanged polite greetings with many of its residents. As their neighbour I was well know to all of them.

I'd chosen to stay here because I figured they'd be less likely to turn me in to the templars compared to the human inhabitants of Low town. They had been wary of a human living in their midst at first but after nearly a year of being among them and having help them multiple times when the city guards had failed or refused to do so, they had come to view me as a member of their community.

Reaching my intended destination, I rapped on it dilapidated front door. It opened to reveal a young female elf. She possessed a small thin frame, ear length brown hair and large hazel eyes. Her face sported tattoos that marked her as one of the Dalish.

Not long ago I had traveled to the Dalish camp at Sundermount to deliver Flemeth's amulet to their Keeper as promised. The Keeper, Marethari, had me and her apprentice, Merrill,hike up to the summit of Sundermount, where we were to place the amulet on an altar. Once there Merrill performed a Dalish funeral rite with the amulet.

No doubt Flemeth had intended this rite to restore the essence of her that was hidden within it to physical form. Too bad Flemeth never said anything about not harming the entity residing in the amulet. Shame, if she had it might have stopped a certain meddling do-gooder wizard from destroying it.

One soulfire enhanced fire spell –fire burns even in the spirit world -and little backup Flemeth was dealt with. I was rather surprised that neither Merrill nor Marethari asked about me why the amulet was scorched and slightly melted. Perhaps they didn't notice.

With my end of the bargain fulfilled I returned to Kirkwall with Merrill in tow, Marethari having asked me to escort her to the city.

While she had only asked me to accompany the young elf to Kirkwall, the thing was I happen to suffered from a streak of chivalry that was a mile wide and twice as deep.

There was no way I was letting a naive and socially ignorant young woman fend for herself, not in a city where the majority of the population were prejudice against elves and mages –Merrill being lucky enough to be both. She wouldn't survive a week.

And so I had appointed myself her unofficial guardian.

"I'd didn't think you'd come," Merrill stated, her dialect sounding eerily similar to that of a Welsh.

"I promised that I would, didn't I?"I reminded her."Can I come in?"

An invitation is a serious thing in the supernatural world. Surrounding any home is a threshold, a field of protective energy that keeps out unwanted magical forces. As a result it's harder for you to work magic in a home you haven't been invited into. You cross a threshold without an invitation from one of the rightful residents, and you leave a big chunk of your power at the door.

Not that I needed have bothered. With Merrill having only moved in recently there wouldn't be much of a threshold. Still, it was only polite.

"Oh! Yes, please come in," Merrill said, ushering me inside.

The place was a mirror image of my own apartment, a simple three room layout that was made almost entirely of wood. There was the main room, a bedroom and a little bathroom that was adjacent to it.

Filling the main room were pieces of furniture and book cases, with a kitchenette tucked away in one corner. On the walls hung paintings of various forest landscapes.

"I'll find something relatively clean for you to sit on," Merrill said, going over to a nearby table and giving one of its chairs a quick clean.

As I sat down in it Merrill asked, "Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have...water."

I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer but I'm going to pass. I don't trust the water from this part of the city."

"I'd boil it first," she said defensively. "A few times, actually. Sometimes, it won't stop twitching."

"And with that cheery revelation I've decided that I rather die of thirst than drink the Alienage's water."

"I'm sorry. My first guest and I am already a terrible host," Merrill fretted, taking the seat opposite me. "I wanted to thank you for bring me here but I'm making a mess of it.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," I advised. "Normally when I pay someone a visit all they offer me is to show me the door**,** so this is actually a step up from my usual treatment**. **Besides, there no need to thank me. We're friends, remember?"

"I haven't exactly had many friends. Not even among my own clan," she admitted. "This is...tricky."

"I find that hard to believe. How could someone as friendly as you could be so unpopular?" I asked.

"Being first to the keeper, I was always... a bit secluded. I study magic and history while the others were learning the Vir Tanadhla." She tried to smile. "It's good that I left. I'd made a terrible keeper. I was never that good with people."

"You're wrong. So what if you weren't good with people. Someone as caring, earnest and determined as you would've made a great Keeper."

Merrill's cheeks turned pink. "You're so kind. Not at all like how I expected a shemlen to be."

"The sentries at your camp called me that," I said, recalling the conversation I had with the two elves. "What does it mean?"

"It means quick child. It is term created by the ancient elves to describe the humans and denote their shorter lives," she explained.

"Well, talk about irony," I remarked, amused. "Calling me that when you Dalish are the ones with the much shorter lifespan compared to mine."

"But the number of years an elf and a human lived for are relatively the same," she said, confused.

"True enough for normal humans. But I also happen to be a wizard. Thanks to our magic, we wizards get to hang around much longer," I said.

"You know magic that can extend a person's life?" she asked eagerly, a hopeful look in her eyes. No doubt she was thinking about the possibility of restoring her race's immortality.

"In a sense," I replied. "Here in Thedas, a mage such as yourself uses magic by tapping into the power of what you call the Fade to essentially question reality, rendering it mutable and able to be reshaped. However, my magic differs from yours. Rather than the Fade, I instead tap into the fundamental energies of creation and life itself."

"Your magic doesn't originate from the Fade!?" Merrill exclaimed, a look of absolute shock on her face.

I nodded. "This gives me certain advantages you mages lack. For one, I don't have to worry about drawing the attention of spiritual beings whenever I use magic. Instead, the use of my magic, the essence of life itself, increases my longevity drastically. So long as nobody sticks a sword in me or I catch some fatal disease, I'll live for centuries."

"Is it possible for me to learn this magic of your?" she asked excitedly.

"It is, but it won't be easy."

It had taken a lot research and countless experiments but in the end Bethany had been able to use my branch of magic.

"I'm currently teaching it to my apprentice, Bethany, whenever I have a spare moment. You're more than welcome to join her," I offered.

"Thank you, Dresden. If there's ever a way for me to repay you..."

Hmm, now seems as good a time as any to inform her of a certain plan of mine.

"Well, there's a plan Bethany and I are working on that we could use your help with. It's quite risky and a bit of a long shot but if it works Thedas will be forced to change how they treat mages, one way or another."

**(~)**

Codex Entry: Potions

There's two way to make potions. Crafting and Brewing.

Crafting is the method used here in Thedas and is fairly straightforward. So long as you have the necessary herbs, crafting a potion is simply a matter of following the recipe's instructions.

While crafting is easier than brewing, the verity of potions made this way is mostly limited to either restoratives or draughts that increases certain attributes in a person, such as durability or resistance to a specific elemental attack.

Brewing on the other hand is far more complex than crafting and is the method used in the homeland of my teacher, Dresden.

A brewed potion consists of eight parts. A base liquid to provide a medium for mixing. Five ingredients symbolically linked to each of the five senses. Another ingredient similarly linked to the mind, with the final ingredient being linked to that of the spirit.

The actual physical ingredients themselves aren't all that important -it's the meaning that they carry, the significance that they have for the person making the potion. As a result the ingredients are different for each and every potion, and for each person who makes them.

Once all the ingredients are mixed together, enough magical energy has to be force through them to activate them.

Unlike with crafting, there doesn't appear to be a limit to the kinds of potions you can create with brewing. Not even if that potion does something that should be impossible, such as briefly transforming the consumer into the wind.

-From the notes of Bethany Hawke.

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><p><strong>Author notes:<strong>

**This chapter gave me some serious dramas. I wasn't happy with how it turned out despite having changed and rewrote it seven times. So I decide to cut my losses and just post it since I haven't updated in nearly a year. Hopefully I'll have better luck with the next chapter.**

**Also thanks to those who pointed out that it's Athenril and not ****Amerthel. I've now change it to the correct name.  
><strong>


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